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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041173">Never Enough</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cact_ass/pseuds/Cact_ass'>Cact_ass</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Original Work</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Anorexia, Eating Disorders, Hurt No Comfort, Just a mini monologue ig?, vent fic</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-28</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-13 05:33:42</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,772</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/29041173</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cact_ass/pseuds/Cact_ass</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>An introspective look at what goes through my head, mostly my struggles with anorexia/eating disorders. It's almost written from Ana's point of view. It's kind of harsh, but that's what my brain throws at me, so I'm sorry if anyone reads this and gets triggered.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Never Enough</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Yes, I cried while writing this and then editing</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When did this start?</p><p>It can’t have been sudden. A gradual build up maybe, I don’t like my stomach, I want smaller thighs, my arms don’t look good, and suddenly I look in the mirror and feel nothing but hatred.</p><p>Can you remember when it started? When you looked in the mirror and didn’t hate what you saw? Memories of dissatisfaction, feelings of inadequacy, wanting to be thinner, prettier, less disgusting. They’ve taken over the space that used to occupy that tiny kernel of self love.</p><p>It started slow and snowballed.</p><p>Maybe I should eat less. Maybe I should count calories. Maybe I should start walking. Maybe I should exercise every morning. And suddenly you’re doing sit ups in the bathroom so no one sees. Crying into the toilet bowl because nothing is coming up. Cutting deep, deeper, trying to find that feeling of being enough. Thin enough.</p><p>What if that doesn’t exist?</p><p>“Just a few kilos”, 80, 75, 60, 45. Still not enough. Never enough. I want to look cute. I want to be thin. I want to buy pretty clothes. I want to feel confident.</p><p>I want to eat, to binge and cry and stop torturing my body. That isn’t an option. Restrict, restrict, restrict. Over your limit? Fat pig. Cow.</p><p>Exercising at 2am so no one sees. Quietly throwing out your dinner. Lunch. Snacks. Skipping breakfast and praying everyone is oblivious. Praying someone notices so you can get the help you so desperately need. But you’re not thin enough to be sick. No one’s going to believe a cow like you is anorexic. Bulimic. Those are for skinny people. Skeletons with skin.</p><p>Rib cages, tiny wrists, thigh gaps, delicate collarbones, shoulder blades that look more like wings than bones. This is what consumes my mind. What fuels the restriction, the counting, the crying over the scale as I sit hunched, naked, desperately trying to be lighter.</p><p>“Please be lower, a kilo, half a kilo, anything,” but when it’s lower it’s not low enough. You didn’t lose enough. You were too lazy, too glutenous. Who cares if you lost 3 kilos in two days? It could have been more. You could be more.</p><p>A new diet, one after the other. A low-calorie restriction with 20 hour fasting every day, not enough. You feel like a fake. Do I even have an ED? Of course not, your brain tells you. You’re fat. People with eating disorders are skinny. You’re just faking it, exaggerating. You should eat less. Fast for 24 hours. Not enough. Fast for 48 hours. Not enough. Fast for 72 hours.</p><p>Not enough.</p><p>Only drink diet soda. Love green tea. You hate green tea? Doesn’t matter. 0 calories, better metabolism, more important than whether you like it or not. Stop thinking with your fat brain. I thought you were better than this, where’s all your determination to lose weight now?</p><p>Down the drain as fast as that food is being shoved in your mouth.</p><p>Look at all these people who get skinny in two months. Why can’t you do that? Why are you the only one who’s a failure? Stop being so useless and starve. Restrict. Vary your intake. Can’t get skinny if your metabolism stops.</p><p>You overate? Fat pig. Chug salt water. Not working? Chug baking powder. Not working? Use your toothbrush, hunch over the toilet, crying and begging your brain to stop. Swallow soap, stop relying on excuses. They’re why you’re such a fat piece of shit. It’s not genetics. You aren’t ‘big boned’. You think your bones jiggle? That’s all the lard covering your bones. Weighing you down.</p><p>Your collarbones are finally coming through. You’re proud of that? What a joke. They could have been here the entire time if you had some fucking self control. There’s still so far to go until they actually look good. Until you look good enough.</p><p>Your gut is smaller. But it’s still there. It isn’t flat. You can’t stop until your entire stomach is flat. No. Not good enough. Concave.</p><p>You can eat that when your wrists are tiny. You can eat that when you have a thigh gap. You can stop crying on the floor of the bathroom when your ribs are showing.</p><p>Gross, you’re hungry? You ate earlier today. Disgusting. Go look in the mirror. Grab your fat rolls. Still hungry? Of course you are, you fatass.  Just give up already if you’re going to be this weak. Let yourself become even more obese until you can’t get out of bed, until you can barely breath, since self control matters that little to you.</p><p>It’s no wonder your parents don’t love you. You’re such a slob. Your dad didn’t stay because he knew you’d be a failure of a child. He doesn’t keep in contact because you’re a disappointment. Your mum doesn’t love you, you were the mistake child. She has three other beautiful girls to pour her love into. Why would she bother with you? And the cherry on top, the one who saw what you were and treated you accordingly. You know why your step father beat you don’t you? Of course you do. It’s what you deserved after all. You aren’t good enough. You never have been.</p><p>What happened to those straight A’s? That love of reading? How did you become so stupid and useless? You’re never going to make up for being a failure. If you aren’t going to improve then you should at least be skinny. You can’t do anything about your ugly face or disgusting personality, but you can at least be thin.</p><p>“Make sure you’re eating enough!” But they don’t realise I’m eating too much. 700 calories feels like failure. Pasta tastes like fat. Bread looks so innocent. Oil hides its calories. Do you know how many calories are in a tablespoon of canola oil? 120. And that’s all going to your thighs. Your stomach. Your arms. Hiding your collarbones under layers and layers of disgusting sludge.</p><p>Work harder. Do better. You pulled a muscle? Who cares. Keep exercising. An hour is nothing. Less than nothing. Make it two. Make it three. Keep pushing until you’re crying. Until you’re shaking and can barely stand in the shower.</p><p>Be skinny.</p><p>No one loves you. How could they? You’re literally repulsive. Disgusting. Revolting. Nothing about you is lovable. Don’t you want to be thin and dainty? Don’t you want people to look at you and be worried? Be protective? Then starve. Restrict. Exercise. Work out in the mornings. Cardio burns more calories. Burn your fat until there’s none left and let your muscles degenerate until there’s nothing left of you but bones.</p><p>Your BMI is too high. Make it lower. 16. 15. 14. Keep going until you die. Until people look at you and see something’s wrong. You can’t call yourself an anorexic when you still eat. You can’t call yourself an anorexic if you’re fat. And you’re both of those things, aren’t you? So just stop. Stop eating. Your housemate will notice? You’re just full of excuses aren’t you.</p><p>You can’t wait for work days, for days you’re at uni, home alone, so you can starve and exercise and ignore the hatred you feel for yourself. So you can distract yourself and make yourself feel needed, necessary. But deep down you know you aren’t. Your crush doesn’t want you. Your friends are just pretending. Your bosses will fire you as soon as they can get someone else. Your customers only  tip you because they feel sorry for you. You’re trying so hard and they think you’re pathetic. They’re secretly glad they don’t look like you, bulging in your work clothes, fat rolling over everything. Chubby cheeks, ugly face, flushed red and jiggling everywhere trying to keep up.</p><p>I wonder how many people you’ve made lose their appetite. I mean, it wouldn’t be hard, they’d just have to look at you. Smiling like everything’s okay when you look like an absolute mammoth. It’s actually disgusting. But you don’t know when to give up. When to stop and look in the mirror and realise, oh, I’m a pathetic lump of fat. Maybe next time you want to eat that chocolate, you’ll remember and grab a black coffee instead. Maybe instead of eating that meal, you’ll stop and control yourself. Maybe instead of eating dessert, you’ll drink green tea.</p><p>Stop being pathetic.</p><p>You cry yourself to sleep because you’re fat right? So do something about it. Don’t complain and cry and then do the same things over and over again. The pasta is sitting there. It doesn’t need to be eaten, but you want to eat it anyway. That milk in the fridge doesn’t need to be drank, but you’ll guzzle it anyway. Learn some self control already. Don’t bother trying to love yourself, there’s nothing there to love, but at least have some self respect. Starve yourself so you don’t look like such a walrus. Starve yourself so you don’t get stares out in public.</p><p>You know they whisper about you behind your back. About how you’ve let yourself go. About how you look like your clothes are about to rip. How can your heels hold your weight? How can you wear tight clothes and think it’s socially acceptable? Have some awareness.</p><p>So really, you have two options. You take your garden shears and cut that disgusting fat off your body, or you lose some fucking weight you whale. It’s not a difficult decision, is it? You’re proud of losing 10 kilos? Get over yourself. Lose 40 more. Lose 45. Lose all of your weight. Become nothing, because that’s what you are. You’re nothing when you’re fat.</p><p>People don’t love you, people don’t look at you and think you’re pretty, or inspirational, or even a person. People look at you and see fat.</p><p>And that’s just sad.</p><p>Do you want to be a failure forever? Because I don’t want you to be. I want to help you. To make you pretty and desirable. You want your crush to love you, right? Then listen to me. Don’t eat that bread. Don’t eat that pasta. Meat? No no no, eat cucumber and celery. You’ll look so much better!</p><p>Oh that’s your calorie limit? Hm, maybe we should lower it. A little more. 300 is still a little high for someone as fat as you, but we’ll work on it! Before you know it, you’ll be starving for three days. Then four. Five. Seven. Two weeks. </p><p>You aren’t there yet, but you will be.</p><p>I’ll make you skinny, I promise it’s not hard. Just be better.</p>
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